Chapter Thirty-Five A Morning Reveals a Motive

Five hours later, in the duchess' apartments at Weston Hall

"I do like this bed," Michael murmured, sitting on the edge of it so he could pull on his stockings.

"Would you say that if I wasn't in it?" Helena asked, amusement evident in her voice.

He glanced over to where she sat brushing her dark hair at the dressing table. Only the moment before, he had helped her into a corset, a series of petticoats, and a blue day gown. "You're not in it now," he remarked.

She tittered as she pulled a ribbon from a drawer.

"Come tie my hair into a pony tail so we can go down to breakfast," she said. "I am starving."

"As am I, you minx," he said, taking the length of ribbon from her. "Making love to you is quite exhausting."

"It's mutual, I assure you," she countered, grinning when he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

Michael had the blue ribbon wrapped and tied into an even bow in only a moment.

"You did that as if you knew what you were doing," she said in wonder.

"I have a daughter," he reminded her.

"Doesn't she have a lady's maid?"

"She didn't when she was younger," he replied with a grin. He kissed the top of her head. "I just have to pull on my shoes and we can head down." He moved to a chair. "Are you quite sure you're all right with me joining you and your children for breakfast?"

Helena directed a look of surprise at him. "Well, of course. They both know we're to marry," she replied. "You'll be their stepfather very soon."

"You're quite sure Alfred was upset about what happened with Violet?"

Helena furrowed a brow. "He was. Stayed in his study for hours after it happened, and he didn't even join us for dinner."

"And you're sure there wasn't enough liquor in the study for him to get too drunk?"

"There was only enough for one glass," she assured him.

"Good," Michael said, straightening his coats before he offered her his arm.

"What do you mean by that?"

"The more miserable he is, the more likely he will be to do something about it." At seeing her look of confusion, he added, "I've been where he is. I remember it quite well."

"It wasn't your anger or stubbornness that led you to losing me," she reminded him.

"No, but that sense of loss—it hurt. It was painful. Almost unbearably so. Enough so I never wanted to experience it again."

Helena stared at him, remembering that day thirty years ago when they had both learned he couldn't marry her. "I remember it," she whispered. "What do you expect he's going to do, though?"

Michael chuckled as he opened the door for her. "If he hasn't already..." He paused upon seeing Pritchard in the corridor. The butler's attention wasn't on them but rather on an open door to the master suite.

"What is it, Pritchard?" Helena asked as they joined him.

"His Grace, Weston, hasn't returned, ma'am."

Helena exchanged a quick glance with Michael. "Returned?"

"He... he took his leave on a horse. In the middle of the night, Your Grace."

"Did he mention where he was going?" Michael asked, a wan grin appearing after a moment.

"He did not, my lord."

"Do you think he went off to Fenwick House and...?" Helena stopped, her mouth dropping open in shock.

"We could find out," Michael offered. "In fact, would you like to join me for breakfast at Fenwick House this morning? If Lady Amelia is up and about, she can join us, too."

"What's this?" Amelia asked, emerging from her bedchamber farther down the corridor. Dressed in a day gown nearly the same color as her mother's, her resemblance to Helena was more noticeable than usual.

"We're going to Fenwick House for breakfast," Helena said. "Surprise your betrothed, shall we?"

Amelia giggled. "I certainly wouldn't object," she said. "And it will give Trimble more time with Mrs. Pritchard for her reading lesson," she added.

"Philip won't object, either," Michael said as he offered his other arm to her.

"I had the town coach made ready in the event you didn't wish to ride your horse home, my lord," Pritchard offered.

"Good thinking, Pritchard. It seems we're going to need it right now."

The four of them descended the stairs. Before they made it past the door to the breakfast parlor, Helena stopped and ducked in to grab a basket of breakfast rolls from the sideboard. Upon noticing her daughter's widened eyes, she said, "I'm starving, dear."

"As am I," Amelia replied, helping herself to one of the rolls.

The three took their leave of Weston Hall, a rather relieved Pritchard watching them go.